


the wonders of winter magic

by NoGood_InGoodbye



Category: Pitch Perfect (Movies)
Genre: All the Christmas tropes, Beca secretly loves Christmas, Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Eventual Romance, F/F, Romance, Romantic Fluff, Steca!Brotp
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-30
Updated: 2017-11-30
Packaged: 2019-02-08 09:47:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12861954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NoGood_InGoodbye/pseuds/NoGood_InGoodbye
Summary: Beca wondered if the redhead could hear her pounding heart, could feel her pulse jumping at the tender way warm fingers traced the small sliver of skin just above her hip.Or: Chloe really loves Christmas, Becareallyfucking loves Christmas, and that's a secret.





	the wonders of winter magic

**Author's Note:**

> M-m-m-merry Christmas (or whatever holiday you celebrate) everyone! Happy December 1st! (I have no fucking clue where y'all are at but it's 4am on December 1st, my time, and I've always sucked at time conversion, so here you are!)
> 
> So I'm breaking my hiatus with the first Christmas fic I have (yes, there's more where this came from ;))!
> 
> Special thanks to my amazing(ly patient) beta [FantasyCNG](http://archiveofourown.org/users/FantasyCNG/pseuds/FantasyCNG)! Check out her work, too!
> 
>  **Disclaimer:** I do not own Pitch Perfect or any of the PP characters :(((

She loved the joy and kindness that seemed to spread through people during the season. It didn’t make _her_ any nicer, but she liked the sentiment (and the chance to be a dick and quickly forgiven for it because tis the season and all that shit).

She loved the stupid decorations and bright lights (because it made everything just a wee bit more tolerable and cheery and _maybe_ it made her forget about the lack of lights and décor and warmth she’d be going home to once the break hit). She loved the shrill laughter and padded footsteps that followed the snow she’d associated with her hometown (and maybe she looked forward to a certain someone’s laughter and footfalls specifically, but who could blame her? That laugh was fucking _heavenly_ ).

She loved the way that the season brought people together (even _she_ grudgingly agreed to dinners with the step-monster as the final month started counting down). She loved the weird ass jingles and snow themed songs that came with it.

She loved that the season made her favorite person (after that three-hour argument that ended in one too many broken bones, she couldn’t and would never think of arguing against that statement) light up like every damned tree in the country. She loved the way blue eyes brightened to an even deeper blue at every carol that played on the radio and plump pink lips curled at every old man in a big ass red suit.

Beca fucking loved Christmas.

Of course, she never _said_ it (or showed it), but she really, genuinely did.

That was the reason why, when the Bellas had suggested a Secret Santa for their Bella-only-pre-Christmas-break party, Beca only put up half her usual protest.

Chloe stood in the center of the living room, big ugly Santa hat in hand as she started making her way through every Bella in the room. Cold blue eyes trailed the redhead as she watched Amy pout at the slip of paper she’d gotten, the Australian opening her mouth to argue or ask for a change before she’d caught the glare the brunette had shot her from across the room and quickly thought better of it. The smaller co-captain quickly lost interest as the other Bellas started picking their own slips, cold blue eyes moving around the room and stopping at the smirking brunette sat next to her.

Beca’s brow quirked slightly at the taller woman, frown forming as she muttered, “What?”

“Nothing,” Stacie grinned, eyes twinkling in obvious amusement at something the other brunette just couldn’t seem to catch.

The co-captain replied with an unconvinced glare and the leggy brunette gave in with a small bump of her shoulder.

“It’s just,” Stacie started, voice dropping to a whisper as she leaned lazily on the older woman. “It’s amusing how much effort you’re putting into acting like you hate all this.”

The smaller brunette’s brows furrow as her frown twisted into a scowl. She continued to mutter, “I _do_ hate this.”

Stacie quirked a brow, an amused little smirk catching the corner of her lips. “You’re telling the girl who had to drag you out of the snow when you were twelve that you hate _Christmas_?”

“I hate the way it’s forced and shit.”

“But you love the season and the genuine fucked up nice-ness of it all, too.”

The brunette’s glare sharpened, “Don’t you _dare_ tell a soul.”

“And miss out on this Oscar-worthy performance? I wouldn’t dare.”

“Becs?” a warm, smooth voice brought her back to the reason they were all seated there in the first place.

The DJ shot the taller Bella one last scowl before she turned to her co-captain, an apologetic smile on her lips before dropping her hand in, “Sorry.”

She pulled it out, fingers untangling the second slip caught and dropping the extra one back in before turning away from her best friends and peeking at the slip.

Stacie.

Perfect.

It was easy enough to get her childhood friend a gift. The taller brunette had been whining about how small her Ravenclaw hoodie was getting and she’d seen some themed hoodies that’d fit the girl nicely a couple weeks ago (and maybe then she’d stop stealing all her jackets. Between her and Chloe, the DJ had only one hoodie left—and she had a feeling she’d be missing it once the break hit). And _maybe_ a little more sentiment and personal touch could go with the gift, too—that is, if Beca could find those ugly ass dream journals and middle school photos she’d hidden in her dad’s attic before the party, of course.

With her Secret Santa gift finalized, Beca folded the slip into a smaller square and tucked it into her pocket, turning to find warm blue eyes twinkling at her expectantly. The brunette quirked a brow as the redhead eagerly stood in front of her, seemingly waiting for _something_ out of her co-captain.

“Can I help you?” the usual bite was softened to a gentle question and the brunette scowled to fix it.

The redhead grinned in reply, an elbow digging into her side as the brunette refused to look at the obvious smirk that’d tilted her childhood friend’s lips. “Who’d you get, Becs?”

Beca scowled, pushing the offending elbow away as she grumbled, “What part of ‘secret’ in Secret Santa don’t you _get_ , Red?”

“Aw, come on, Bec-y-boo,” Stacie cooed from her right, the offending childhood nickname her great grandmother had used all those years ago made her lips cement into a frown and her eyes squint into a glare. “I thought we’re your best friends.”

“I resent that,” Amy’s hand raised in protest but the tallest brunette and her favorite (and only) redhead ignored her.

“We can help you find a present!” Chloe continued, bouncing in place as her small slender fingers tightened around the empty Santa hat.

“I’m good, thanks,” the brunette slipped out of her spot on the couch, the relief slipping past her lips once she’d escaped both overly curious women. “If anyone needs me, I’ll be in my room.”

Beca practically ran out the living room and tumbled into the safety of her bedroom. The brunette figured that since she probably wouldn’t have time to finish everything later on, she’d start on all her gifts then (even if it was only mid-November and _not_ because Christmas gift shopping got her excited. _Definitely_ not because of _that_ ).

No evidence of any online gift searching could be found in the brunette’s browser the next morning.

* * *

The door to her room flung open as a tall, classily dressed brunette sauntered in. “Okay, shorty, I want that new book I showed you two months ago. Remember? The one with brushstrokes on the cover?”

“Get the fuck out, Stace,” the shorter brunette sighed, steel blue eyes falling back to her laptop as she pointedly ignored the woman to finish her work.

The girl had been barging into her room demanding to know who she’d picked almost every day since the Picking (as Beca had since dubbed the event) and every day she’d brush the taller brunette off. And from what the younger brunette seemed to be saying, she’d finally figured out who the DJ had picked. “I can’t remember the title, but I’ll send it to you when I do.”

“I didn’t pick you.”

“Liar. I already went snooping and sleuthing around—I know you picked me.”

“You’re _really_ taking the fun out of all this, you ass.”

“Don’t give me your ‘Christmas should be real and heartfelt’ shit, Bec—I already know, thank you very much, but even though I know you’ll get me something _amazing_ —because let’s face it, you’re extra sappy during this time of the year—I’d still _really_ like that book.”

Steel blue eyes rolled in fond exasperation. “Anything else, _your majesty_?”

“Oh, yeah, I actually came to you for some help with my Secret Santa.”

“I cannot and will not help you translate anything Amy says she wants from Tasmania.”

“Fuck no. I didn’t get Amy, thank shit for that, no, I got Chloe.”

Beca eyed the brunette suspiciously, brow raising as she drawled, “O-kay?”

A teasing, mischievous little grin twisted her friend’s lips. “How do you feel about wearing bowties?”

“No, Stacie, _no_. You are _not_ giving _me_ as a _Christmas gift_.”

“Aw, come on, Bec! Chloe would _kill_ to have you for Christmas.”

“She’s not _interested_ in me like that! How many times do I have to _tell_ you?”

“Beca, you must be the blindest damn person I know because that girl is head over heels in love with you!”

“Did you fucking _ask_ her?”

“I don’t _need_ to! You could see it from fucking Pluto!”

“Fuck you, Conrad.”

“I’m sure Chloe would love it more.”

Stacie easily dodged the pillow the smaller brunette had thrown, a frustrated frown marring the taller woman’s face as she seemed to battle with accepting the end of their conversation or ploughing through. Beca was thankful she chose the former.

“Fine. Whatever. Don’t believe me. Fuck you and your damn insecurities, Mitchell, but I still need help getting her a gift.”

“Just get her Dostoevsky’s Crime and Punishment, she’s never gotten the chance to buy one—or maybe a signed Bella photo album. She’ll be all over that shit.”

“Thanks,” the taller brunette tossed the DJ’s pillow back to her, the younger girl already exiting the room. “My first gift proposal still stands, though!”

The door was closed before the pillow even left the DJ’s hand.

* * *

Beca didn’t mean to be so difficult (except for Monday mornings, in which case, fuck the world, honestly), but the one thing she really wanted from the supersenior, she just couldn’t ask for (or she _could_ and face intensely heartbreaking rejection thus ruining the best relationship she’s ever formed with any human being—sorry not sorry, Stace).

But the redhead was nothing but persistent and was slowly wearing the brunette down with her constant asking.

“You know, Chlo, you’re doing a shit job of hiding who you chose for Secret Santa,” the DJ sighed, slumping in her seat as pale slender fingers tightened around her mug of coffee.

“Who said it’s you?” Beca simply replied with a quirked brow, bringing her mug to her lips as she sipped from it slowly. The redhead pouted childishly in response and deflated from her spot on the counter. “Come _on_ , Becs! You’re impossible to shop for! You’re impossibly picky with your music, you already _have_ every kind of plaid known to mankind, you don’t like little trinkets and what-not because they take up too much of your ‘music space’, and you got new mixing equipment only two months ago. _Please_ tell me what you want. Anything. I’ll get it.”

The brunette rolled her eyes at the dramatics, the coffee under her lips rippling at the slight scoff that past her lips. “Get me a unicorn, Beale. Maybe then I’ll get a bit of your rainbows and butterflies attitude.”

The redhead straightened as if electrified, a blinding grin replacing the exaggerated pout as blue eyes brightened in reply. The supersenior dropped a quick kiss on the brunette’s cheek, lingering for half a second longer than what was considered platonic before she was halfway out the kitchen, shouting over her shoulder, “Okay!”

Beca didn’t even have the chance to breathe in protest before the sound of the front door closing echoed through the house.

Her cheek lingered with the feeling of soft pink lips and her nose filled with the smell of apples and vanilla. She didn’t know if she should be terrified or touched.

* * *

Beca had forgotten how tiring social interaction with (kind-of) family was.

Her heavy footsteps echoed around the quiet house, the rest of the Bellas either sleeping or out. The younger co-captain sighed as she trudged up the stairs and dropped her things by her bed, toeing off her shoes and slipping into her comfiest pajamas. She needed whatever source of comfort she could get.

Even though the brunette felt tired mentally, her body still didn’t feel like going to sleep. After a quick little roll of her shoulders, the little DJ padded out of her room and back down into the kitchen to fix herself a cup of hot chocolate—it was one of her (many) favorite things about Christmas.

The drawers rattled and the metal scraped lightly against the glass as Beca got to preparing herself some instant hot chocolate, singing quietly to the Christmas song that had played on her way back to the Bella house.

The brunette was searching for the mini marshmallows in the pantry when a long yawn interrupted her quiet little concert.

“Becs?” a soft, rough voice slurred as cold blue eyes looked up to find the most gorgeous case of bedhead in the universe.

It took a few long blinks for Beca to find herself, but the brunette turned back to the pantry and managed a calm, “Sorry, Chlo. Did I wake you?”

“No, I smelled something sweet s’all,” the redhead smiled drowsily and the brunette thought she couldn’t be more in lo—intrigued. She was intrigued by the supersenior.

The DJ nodded and soon found the marshmallows, gently closing the pantry door before grabbing another mug and packet. “You want some?”

Chloe’s sleepy smile turned soft as the redhead nodded. “Yes please, thank you.”

Beca busied herself with making the hot chocolate, trying very seriously to keep her heart from echoing in the silent house. She dropped a handful of marshmallows in both their mugs before offering one to the redhead and settling into the stool next to her.

The pair drank in comfortable silence (or as comfortable as a racing heart and knotted stomach could feel at the warmth that spread through her whole side as the redhead leaned on the DJ), a contented sigh leaving the redhead before she pulled away halfway through her drink.

Warm blue eyes looked at steel. “Why are you still up, Becs?”

The brunette’s nose wrinkled at the memory, a frown tilting her lips as she softly replied, “I just came home from my dad’s.”

The questioning sharpness in warm blue softened to understanding. Warm, soft fingers wrapped around her cold, pale hand. “Want to talk about it?”

Beca sighed, eyes squeezing shut for a long second before she let out a shaky breath. “It’s a work in progress. I—Well, it didn’t go as bad as it usually does.” The gentle squeeze on her hand made pale slender fingers turn over and fit into soft warm ones. “It’s Christmas time and all, right? And the season’s all about family and shit? And it goes _really well_ —all up until the wine comes out and then suddenly it’s all just shit. No more family, you know?” She felt the soft, reassuring weight on her shoulder that kept her grounded and warmed the girl’s darkest thoughts.

And maybe her dad kind of sucked sometimes. And maybe family Christmases would never be the same. But Chloe Beale was holding her close and saying nothing but humming Christmas songs into her ear so maybe it would be okay. Maybe she could live without the whole family Christmas shit.

She could still love Christmas.

* * *

Christmas carols were great—except for when _she_ was singing them (in public). Then they were the worst things ever created.

“ _Chlo_ ,” the brunette whined, feet digging into the snow as the redhead held cold pale hands in small warm ones.

“It’s a Bella bonding activity, Becs,” the redhead sighed, eyes rolling in both amusement and exasperation.

The co-captain made some strange guttural noise—maybe dying, maybe protest. “Can’t we just watch a fucking _movie_.”

The supersenior gave a strong tug to the hand she held and the younger Bella stumbled to stand next to her. “The majority wanted to sing Christmas carols tonight, Beca, and so we are singing Christmas carols.”

Beca groaned, head thrown back in barely acknowledged defeat. “I hate you all so fucking much.”

A fond smile tugged on the redhead’s lips as she rose to her toes and planted a quick kiss on the brunette’s cheek—and if the redhead’s lips had fallen a little _too_ close to the brunette’s, then that was just the girl’s lack of accuracy, Beca reasoned. “Love you, too, Becs. Now come on.”

The brunette was too dazed to try and protest any further, pale cheeks warming considerably in the chilly December air. It was only three days into the last month of the year and Beca’s world was slowly starting to unravel.

Could Stacie be right? Could Chloe _actually_ be interested in a grumpy ol’ DJ like her?

Beca shook the thoughts out of her head, a wry smile tugging at her lips as she let the redhead lead her into the campus’ main quadrangle. It didn’t mean anything. Chloe was just aiming for her cheek.

Of course.

* * *

Christmas decorating was difficult—but Beca loved it.

She’d gone ahead and bought and mailed in all her favorite decorations and hid and repacked it all at Jesse’s place (being friends with your ex had some major benefits during the yuletide). She’d instructed the man to mail it over to the Bella house exactly a day before their decorating weekend—the first weekend of the month.

Beca had taken that Thursday off from the station to buy enough treats and ingredients to feed an army (or a secretly Christmas-loving DJ) and had left the baking ingredients at the Treble's place before sneaking the other groceries in and leaving them all in Stacie’s part of the pantry (she didn’t bother hiding her yuletide love with the brunette. The tallest Bella had seen her excited about pettier things). The day before Decoration Day, the little DJ and her taller best friend had gone straight to the Treble’s house after their last Bella practice of the year—Stacie’s excuse of last minute shopping for both their families taken without question and both women had missed the girls’ reactions to the decorations arriving.

True to his word, Jesse had sent over Beca’s decorations the afternoon before Decoration Day. Beca and Stacie were already settling into the Treble’s kitchen when their phones had gone off as a barrage of texts and messages streamed in at the Bellas’ excited and more than a little bit apprehensive comments on the mysterious package. Thankfully, the duo were smart enough to turn off their cellphones to focus on the task at hand.

“That does _not_ look like Lily,” the shorter brunette snorted at the crudely drawn face on the gingerbread cookie. “And Lily doesn’t own a flamethrower anymore, Stace.”

The younger Bella paused, voice grim and face stoic as she replied, “You can never tell with that woman, Bec.”

The captain let the words sink in, a jolting shudder running through her spine as she realized the truth to that statement. Beca shook away the thoughts, turning her focus back to her own gingerbread Bella (“They’re _gingerBellas!_ ” the brunette had shot her tallest friend the flattest, most unimpressed look she’d ever made—which was quite something considering the taller brunette had witnessed practically all of the DJ’s most sarcastic faces. Beca had rolled her eyes before turning back to mixing the frosting, “There’s only one ginger Bella, Conrad.” Her childhood friend had cooed and faked kissing noises, pinching the older brunette’s cheek before returning to her own work of cutting the gingerbread people. “You’re so fucking whipped, Bec.”).

The shorter brunette’s own attempts at recreating the Bellas on their gingerbread cookies was going much better than the younger woman’s—of course, it was probably because the DJ cared _more_ about all that seasonal shit (and maybe the blinding grin and twinkling blue eyes she was expecting helped add to her motivation a little bit). The pair quickly finished decorating all the cookies (the older brunette ended up frosting a majority of the Bella ones, Stacie completely incapable of creating any semblance of the women in frosting form) and had let the frosting harden before packing each Bella piece and leaving the general cookies in one big container.

“I can’t believe you’re letting me take all the credit for this shit,” Stacie laughed as the pair packed the cookies into the younger brunette’s bag. “You used to get all fucking territorial about these things.”

Beca shrugged in reply, gingerly placing the last cookie in before zipping her friend’s bag up. “Consider it my extra special good deed for the season—or whatever.”

A Cheshire grin curled the taller girl’s lips. “If the Bellas could see you now.”

“I will stab you in your sleep if you so much as _breathe_ a hint, Conrad.”

The grin turned amused as the younger brunette raised her hands in surrender, the slight smirk to her lips still leaving a scowl on the DJ’s face. “Relax, shorty. I’ll do our old spit promise if it makes you feel any better.”

Beca’s nose wrinkled in reply, the scowl turning into a disgusted frown as the brunette shook her head and passed the bag to her friend. “god no. That’s disgusting as fuck.”

“Hey, _you_ made that spit shake!” Stacie laughed, following the other brunette out the Treble house and trudging through the cold to return home.

“Out of _necessity_ ,” she bit back, glare teasing and cheeks puffed as she kept her already-always-cold fingers deep in her coat pockets. “Besides, you were a horrible promise-keeper before.”

The indignant “Hey!” that left the younger brunette’s lips was followed by a harsh shove, the little DJ laughing as she dodged the second attack.

The pair made it back with their clothes barely damp, both women so attuned to the other’s fighting ticks and habits that the most anyone had gotten was the edge of a snowball hitting Beca’s shoulder. The duo had hid the cookies behind the other Christmas food Beca had bought the day before, Stacie predicting that the Bellas would gush and freak out over the personalized cookies the day after—to which the older brunette had rolled her eyes and shook her head in reply.

* * *

Stacie was right.

The Bellas gushed and squealed over their cookies—praising Stacie to the moon and back as the taller brunette had passed out the cookies before they started decorating. The actual creator watched in silent glee at the way each Bella lit up when they received their piece (and _maybe_ the DJ melted just a little bit more at the way deep blue eyes glowed and a blinding smile made its way to the redhead’s face when Stacie had given the supersenior her cookie. And maybe the older brunette had spent a few more minutes perfecting that specific cookie, but she’d wanted them all to be as accurate as possible and who in the world could recreate that perfect red and deep, impossible blue?).

Once every Bella had indulged in their cookie (the leggy brunette had even graced her best friend with a cookie she actually made, skewed eyes and wiggly frosting making the older brunette chuckle), the group was divided into smaller teams as the decorating went underway.

Stacie, Lily, and Ashley were in charge of decorating the exterior of the house—lights and ornaments and the big ass, multicolored Christmas wreath Beca had asked her mom to mail over (Stacie had beamed at the sight of the insulting décor. The ugly piece of shit reminded both women of a freezing February night spent angrily throwing paint over the last Christmas piece her father would hang every year before that painful day). Cynthia-Rose and Jessica were in charge of putting up the tree and lights (the other Bellas would help to actually decorate it later on). Amy and Flo were in charge of the interior decorations (mostly the tinsel and other things they wanted to hang on the walls or ceilings and—o- _kay_ , Beca did _not_ pack that mistletoe in her decorations box). While the co-captains were left to change the pillow casings, hang the stockings, and get the post-Decoration Day dinner and dessert ready.

The pair worked easily and quickly around each other, passing the seasonal pillow cases and taking the old ones as the other replaced the casing with a quick push, pull, and zip. Stockings were hung around the television in the living room, Beca grudgingly accepting the offered stool as she hung hers and Chloe’s above the screen.

The actual cooking and dessert prepping was easier than getting the pillows changed and the brunette secretly relished the way the redhead’s eyes had widened at the fluidity the DJ had displayed at making the holiday meatloaf. The brunette smirked as she finished off her part of the dish, handing the meat over to the redhead. “You okay there, Chlo? You look like you just saw a ghost.”

“I feel like I just became one,” the redhead muttered before shaking away whatever thoughts had frozen her. Deep blue eyes blinked twice before a familiar smile tilted the supersenior’s lips. “You’re really good at this, Becs.”

Beca shrugged, trying to maintain whatever modicum of cool and composed she had left in the redhead’s eyes. “I’m an only child. My mom didn’t have anyone else to bully into helping her in the kitchen.”

“Yeah,” the redhead’s focus returned to making their dinner. “But if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you looked like you were _enjoying_ it.”

The brunette blushed at being caught but had tried to keep up the façade with an unimpressed scowl (or unimpress _ive_ scowl. Chloe wasn’t buying it). The DJ scoffed, “As if.”

The supersenior’s grin simply widened as she watched the brunette’s blush engulf her neck and face and ears. “Aw, _Bec_ , you totally _love_ Christmas! Why didn’t you just say so?”

Beca was not going to lose her badass cred in one conversation. “I _don’t_. I don’t love Christmas, Chloe!”

“So is that why Stacie’s hanging up your ugly ass Christmas wreath on the front door?” Chloe calmly shot back, grin turning Cheshire as she watched the way the red-faced DJ sputtered for words.

“What— _No_. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I thought the thing was funny at first, but as I kept staring at it when I unpacked the box yesterday, I realized that it was familiar,” the redhead shrugged as she popped the meatloaf into the oven. “It’s the same one in the picture of you and Stacie you have framed on your bedside table.”

Small, heavily dressed shoulders slumped in defeat as thin pink lips shifted from a frown into a pout. “Fine. Whatever. Yeah.”

Warm blue eyes twinkled in both triumph and amusement. “ _Gosh_ , Beca, there’s nothing wrong with liking Christmas.”

“I can already hear the ridicule and laughter ringing in my ears,” the brunette dead-panned and the redhead offered a sympathetic pat on her hand as she chuckled, the warmth overlapping Beca’s cold ones as the redhead left it there.

“If it means that much to you, I won’t tell anyone,” the sincerity dripping from her voice warmed the DJ’s silent panic at being found out. “But I think it’s _really_ cute that you’re putting so much effort into this, Becs.”

“I’m not cute, I’m—”

“You’re the cutest badass to ever grace this planet,” the redhead winked, pulling the warmth away with her as she started to clean the kitchen. “Now could you plate the dessert and the rest of the dinner? I’m sure you’ll do much better than me anyways.”

“But you’re the best, Chlo,” the brunette’s reply was offhanded and automatic, the words barely registering in the DJ’s thoughts as she followed the supersenior’s request. Steel blue eyes missed the way the redhead had frozen at the innocent compliment, a giddy smile filling her features before the woman snapped back to work.

* * *

After the revelation that the brunette was actually a big ol’ Christmas dork, the redhead had taken advantage of the newfound knowledge and had binge-watched all the best Christmas themed episodes of their favorite shows (because even Christmas couldn’t make Beca love movies) and listened and sung along to their favorite yuletide songs almost every night since.

As much as the brunette scoffed and rolled her eyes every time the redhead had appeared at her door with her big blue eyes and a pleading pout on her lips, the DJ’s faint smile at every seasonal song and yuletide episode betrayed her inner joy and pushed the redhead to continue their newfound tradition (random Netflix binging and nightly music listening were already common for them—the only difference was that everything was suddenly more _Christmas_ -y).

This revelation is what led to the little DJ curled up on a certain redhead’s bed, Christmas mixes playing lightly in the background as thin pink lips mouthed to every word sung.

“What if,” the redhead slurred, voice soft and rough as deep blue eyes struggled to stay open. “We make a mashup of Christmas songs, but sing them in January?”

The brunette chuckled, pale fingers curling gently around smooth burning strands, voice just as soft, “Sorry, Chlo. My Christmas spirit doesn’t pass the 31st.”

Full pink lips pouted before a yawn escaped them, warm blue eyes struggling to stay open.

Noticing the shift, the brunette started to pull away. “I think it’s time to head back.”

“No,” the reply was soft, small. Warm slender arms tightened around the DJ’s waist, the brunette’s heart picking speed as the redhead snuggled deeper into the girl to keep her from leaving. “Stay here.”

Through the lump in her throat at the smell of vanilla and apples, a soft chuckle escaped thin pink lips. “You need to rest, Chlo.”

Despite the sleep slurring her words, the redhead sounded sure, determined. “Rest with me.”

Beca wondered if the redhead could hear her pounding heart, could feel her pulse jumping at the tender way warm fingers traced the small sliver of skin just above her hip. And it wasn’t an uncommon occurrence between the co-captains, both girls had fallen asleep together more times than the Bellas combined could count, but the redhead made her heart pound and her fingers sweat every time (she never felt more pathetic—and in love).

“Becs,” the redhead whispered, arms tightening around her waist. “Please.”

The brunette sighed. “When have I ever said no to you, Red?”

A sleepy giggle slipped past full pink lips. “Just one more reason why I love you.”

Both girls missed the way the other tensed as they pretended to fall asleep.

* * *

It was a week before the Bella-only Christmas party and Beca was adding the last few touches on her Christmas gifts.

She’d gotten Stacie’s jacket in the mail a week ago and had hidden it with all the embarrassing grade school photos her mom had mailed her freshman year that she _knew_ the brunette would never snoop through because— _ew_. Neither of them wanted to remember those snot-filled, braces-decorated years. Aside from the Ravenclaw hoodie, she’d gotten her friend the book she’d asked for, some cut-outs of the more _interesting_ entries in _both_ their dream journals, and a few middle school photos she’d scrounged up a few weeks ago (the same night of that unfortunate—or fortunate, depending on how you look at it—disaster dinner at her dad’s and hot chocolate bonding with her favorite person).

She’d wrapped it all up in some dorkily decorated Christmas paper and stuck a printed ‘Merry Christmas’ on the top before hiding it in Amy’s part of their closet (because no one, not even Amy, looked in there).

The only other Bella she’d gotten a gift for was Chloe (Amy did not break her finger for Beca to forget to gift her favorite person) and the brunette had already transferred a mix of the redhead’s favorite songs, favorite Christmas songs, and the DJ’s own Christmas playlist into a thumbdrive. She’d also gotten the redhead a new book filled with amazing baking recipes for her to try over the break (and _maybe_ for the supersenior to try once she got back—Beca wouldn’t be opposed to it). She’d also gotten the older woman (because the brunette just couldn’t help herself when it came to Chloe Beale) a warm, woolen scarf that brought out the redhead’s eyes and lip—hair. It brought out the redhead’s eyes and hair.

And maybe Beca had one more gift for the redhead, but she was still debating strongly with herself about it (she wasn’t going to ask Stacie or Amy or even Cynthia-Rose for help because she knew what they’d all say). _Maybe_ she’d give it. Maybe. If she ever grew the lady balls to give it, that is.

Beca had just finished doodling a lady bug on to her last gift when her door had flung open. The brunette startled and then fumbled to hide the gifts and managed to stuff everything into her closest backpack before her favorite redhead strode in grinning.

“Becs!” Chloe laughed, grabbing the brunette’s wrists and pulling her to her feet. “I need your help.”

The brunette groaned, letting her feet drag as the redhead tugged. “I already told you that I’m all watched out, Chlo.”

“Not for _that_ ,” the redhead rolled her eyes fondly, her pulls stopping but her grip tightening. “I want you to help me plan out all the details for the Christmas party.”

Steel blue eyes narrowed as the brunette’s lips twisted in confusion. “And you need my help… _why_?”

“Because you’re so good at it!” the supersenior chirped, grin widening at the shorter woman’s frown. “I mean, you planned out almost _all_ the decorations, you know where to get the best things for the cheapest prices, you know your recipes and ingredients, and you’re _really_ good with that gingerbread.”

“I didn’t—”

“I swear if you deny these facts one more time, Becs, I’m going to let Stacie post that picture she has of you in an elf costume online _and_ on our front door.”

Just one secret. That was all Beca had asked the brunette to keep.

Steel blue eyes rose to meet pleading blue and the DJ sighed in defeat. She grumbled, frown deepening as she rolled her eyes, “Fine.”

(She didn’t say yes just to see blue eyes glow.

She was being blackmailed and she just _had_ to say yes or else.)

* * *

Two days before the party and Beca was anxious.

All the details were hammered out and, so far, had been executed perfectly (which, _really_ , it was just all the Bellas, some gifts, and lots of booze, what was there to worry about?). Her gifts were all wrapped and properly hidden (she had to move her gifts from Amy’s closet to the Treble house because apparently _some_ people got crazy when it came to Secret Santa). Chloe and Stacie had stopped hounding about party preparations and Secret Santa gifts respectively but the brunette wasn’t worried about all that.

What worried the little DJ was the green and red little item that had been hidden in her desk drawer for the past two days.

Just the day before, the brunette had sucked it up and asked for her best friend’s opinion (her childhood one, not the one she’s had a crush on for more than a year and a half) and help with the whole redhead situation. The younger brunette had replied with a knowing smirk and a fond pat on the head before disappearing into her room and returning with a crumpled paper bag.

“I had a feeling you’d call on my great expertise,” Stacie handed her the tearing material.

The DJ had taken it gingerly after a muttered “thanks” before opening it to reveal—

“So _you’re_ the supplier this year,” the brunette had rolled her eyes as steel blue stared at the slightly misshapen mistletoe in her hand.

The taller Bella grinned, winking teasingly at her friend before she shrugged innocently, “It’s a season all about loving and giving right? I’m just—spreading the Christmas cheer, Bec! Besides, you’ll thank me.”

“I—I don’t think this is a good idea, Stace.”

“Come on, Beca! Just hang it over your door and invite her to your room before— _bam_! And since it’ll be around the confines of your room, it’ll be quiet and private, just how you like it.”

“You make it sound so easy.”

“It _is_ easy, you dork. Just do it and all that sports shit.”

“But what if—”

“I swear, Mitchell, if you give me another ‘what if’ this week I will burn your headphones and throw them off the Otter once I get back home.”

That shut the DJ up quickly, thin pink lips flattening into a frown as the brunette let out a soft huff.

“Look, you don’t _have_ to do it, it’s just a suggestion. If you don’t want to then you can just hide the thing in your drawer or something—whatever. It’s your choice, Bec.”

With a sympathetic pat on the head, the younger brunette breezed out of the DJ’s room, leaving the older woman to stare at the slightly worn plant.

Shaking cold hands pulled the desk drawer open to reveal the surprisingly-still-alive plant resting on top of all the brunette’s notes and books.

It felt like she had so much on the line this time and she wasn’t sure if she could live with the risks. The risk of embarrassing herself completely, the risk of losing her first best friend since after her parents’ split, the risk of losing her favorite person—the risk of losing Chloe Beale.

The redhead meant everything to her—more than the DJ could ever admit even to herself. She didn’t know what she would do if anything made the supersenior stop talking to her or laughing with her or hugging her…

Sucking in a shaky breath, the brunette pulled the little green plant out and turned it in her hand.

As dangerous and life-changing as the little thing felt, it also gave Beca a sense of— _hope_. Just like with every what-if, there was the bad what-if and the _good_ what-if. And sure, the DJ could be risking the greatest friendship she’s ever had, but then again, she could also be starting the greatest relationship she’ll _ever_ have.

The redhead had been sending her mixed signs all throughout their friendship and the brunette couldn’t tell if it was all her imagination or if Chloe was _actually_ interested.

All decisions had risks, and most of the biggest risks always had the most to lose and the greatest to gain. Beca knew that whatever she decided on wouldn’t be an easy or a light choice.

And as much as she loved the yuletide season, there were some traditions that weren’t just cheer and laughter to her. Kisses under the mistletoe weren’t just tradition in her family—they were the reason her grandmother had found love after her gramps’ death, they were the reason her uncle had found his husband, they were the reason she’d sit under the mistletoe in the middle of her living room and wait for her parents to attack both her cheeks when she was younger, they were… they were _special_.

And so was Chloe Beale.

Her shaking hand tightened around the little plant, the newfound determination careful to keep the little possibility safe in her grasp.

Beca knew what she had to do.

* * *

The actual preparation for the party was easy and fun. Beca could pretend that Chloe was forcing her to do all the baking and yuletide clothes and festive music and be internally overjoyed at it all. The party itself was just their usual Bella bonding night—but with presents, more decorations, and more festive-themed games. By the time the last Bella had entered the living room fresh in her pajamas, Amy was making her second batch of Jungle Juice and the Christmas mixes Beca had since the start of November were playing in the background.

The redhead cheered at the sight of the tallest Bella, red solo cup raised as the older captain shouted over the music, “Alright everyone, Stacie’s finally here so let’s get this party started!”

The Bellas replied with cheers and hoots, a blur of dancing, singing, and incredibly competitively played games filling the time as the women enjoyed their last bonding night for the year. After Jessica, Ashley, and Cynthia Rose had finally finished their reindeer run, the games were packed away and the girls were given a few minutes to clean themselves up before the closing activity for the night.

While the others went off to get rid of the glitter and gel, the co-captains busied themselves by cleaning up the room and bringing all the exchange gifts (all the girls had to place their gifts under the tree that morning so that Chloe could make sure no one peeked ahead of the party) to the center of the room. Once finished, the pair made their way to the kitchen and started serving out the hot chocolate they’d been making into everyone’s mugs.

“So, Becs…” the redhead started as the pair started placing the mugs on trays. The brunette simply replied with a quirked brow. The supersenior stilled, turning to the DJ with a pout. “Who’d you pick for Secret Santa?”

Steel blue eyes rolled as a soft sigh left thin pink lips. The brunette smirked as she shook her head, “I’m still not telling you.”

The redhead’s pout deepened (and nearly stopped Beca’s heart for fuck’s sake) as deep blue eyes widened. “But _Beca_ , I just want to know—”

“If I picked you?” the brunette’s smirk was teasing. “You’ll just have to find out, Chlo.”

The redhead whined halfheartedly but the brunette simply shook her head fondly at her antics. The pair picked up their respective trays and made their way back to the living room where the rest of the Bellas had returned. After passing around each mug, the co-captains settled into the spots left for them in the circle, grabbing their respective presents before taking their seats next to each other.

Chloe nudged the brunette once they’d settled, the redhead’s soft smile enveloping the DJ in a comforting warmth. The redhead quirked a brow, “You want to start?”

Beca chuckled, shaking her head when she realized that the redhead had just wanted to know who she’d picked. Looking around the room, the shorter co-captain realized that all the other Bellas were nodding, a particular brunette agreeing the most enthusiastically. Steel blue eyes turned to see wide, ocean blue accompanied by an adorable little pout and the DJ relented with a defeated sigh. “Fine.”

The brunette shot the supersenior a small smirk before standing, slightly relishing in the confused and shocked look on the redhead’s face as Beca crossed the room and passed her gift to Stacie.

Her childhood friend beamed and bounced, taking the gift and placing it gingerly in front of her before launching to her feet and crushing the DJ in a grateful hug. The older brunette chuckled, returning the hug for a quick, strong moment before pulling away with a light punch. The co-captain returned to her spot beside the redhead, who’d shot her a sheepish little smile that the brunette smirked at, as the tallest Bella settled back into her spot and started to rip open her present.

“Holy _fuck_ , Bec!” Stacie squealed as she pulled out the Ravenclaw jacket first, staring at it in awe before giving it a tight hug. “I could _kiss_ you right now!”

“Please don’t,” Beca grimaced, earning a giggle and a light peck on her cheek from her redheaded seatmate.

Stacie continued to go through her present, grinning at the book she requested before pulling out the album of embarrassing photos and dream journal entries. The younger brunette laughed and snorted after she’d read the first page of the album, looking up from her gifts with a grateful, wistful grin. “I can’t believe you found this shit.”

The brunette shrugged, trying to play off the gravity of her gifts (even though all the other Bellas were starting to think that they were shit gift-givers and were regretting letting Beca go first). “Didn’t want you to forget about Danny Kippley, ‘s all.”

Brown eyes widened at the name as the taller brunette spluttered. “Oh my _god_. You _didn’t_!”

The DJ smirked, shooting her friend a wink as she shrugged and drawled. “You’ll have to read through it and see.”

Stacie laughed, taking the joke in stride. “I love you and hate you so much, Bec.” The younger brunette paused and grinned. “Thank you.”

The older brunette’s smile was softer, proud. “You owe me, nerd.”

The younger brunette simply rolled her eyes, knowing that it was the DJ’s way of saying ‘you’re welcome’. The tallest Bella carefully placed all her gifts back in its box before picking up her gift to continue the exchange. “Alright then, my turn.”

Stacie stood and crossed the room to the other co-captain, smiling as she handed the heavy paper bag. “Merry Christmas, Chloe!”

“Thanks, Stace,” the redhead grinned, taking the gift and carefully removing the bow and tape.

Steel blue eyes followed her movements, wondering what her best friend had gotten her other best friend. The younger brunette had kept silent about her gift but had teased the DJ relentlessly about its mysterious content all week. Fucking childhood friends.

Small soft fingers dug into the paper bag to reveal a light grey beanie and a thick looking book. A soft gasp left full pink lips as ocean blue eyes flitted over the title. Deep blue eyes started to water as the redhead looked up in both gratefulness and awe at her gift-giver. “How…?”

The tallest brunette shot her a cheeky wink. “I have my sources.”

The little DJ watched in amusement and with great fondness as the redhead held her gifts closer to her. Steel blue eyes wrinkling with her smile before the brunette found herself trapped in deep blue.

“Thanks, Becs,” the supersenior murmured with a soft smile before leaning in to place a chaste kiss on her cheek.

The brunette ducked her head in reply, trying to hide her ruddy cheeks as the redhead thumbed through her gift.

“Oh, check out the bookmark, Chloe. Backmost page. Made it myself,” Stacie’s smug smirk caught the brunette’s attention and the DJ turned to see the redhead sporting her own blush at whatever the younger brunette had made into a bookmark.

Curious, Beca leaned in. “What is it?”

“Nothing!” Chloe squeaked, closing the book and shooting the DJ an embarrassed little smile before shaking her head in amusement at the younger brunette.

“You’re welcome!” Stacie sang, a Cheshire grin quirking her lips before she waved at the redhead. “Now come on, let’s continue!”

Breaking out of their little bubble, Chloe gently placed her gifts back in the bag before passing her present to the shorter brunette on her left. The redhead grinned, deep blue eyes glowing in excitement and with a hint of—mischievousness? The supersenior chirped before pressing another quick kiss to the girl’s cheek, “Merry Christmas, Bec!”

The blush on her co-captains cheeks stayed bright as the brunette muttered a thanks and pulled open the gift bag to find—

Beca laughed, pulling the gift out completely and bringing the other Bellas into a fit of giggles and laughter. “What the hell?”

Chloe had given her a unicorn. A _stuffed_ unicorn. “When I asked you, you said you wanted a unicorn! _So_ , I got you a unicorn.”

Mirth filled the brunette’s eyes as she looked at the adorably fluffy unicorn then back at the redhead. “I was _joking_ , Red.”

“I know!” the supersenior’s beam simply doubled before deep blue eyes brightened as she remembered, “Oh! And there’s more, check the bag!”

Reluctantly, the DJ stuck her hand back in the bag, cold pale fingers finding soft material and pulling it out to reveal two shirts. One was small, the size of a dog or—in this case—a stuffed unicorn. The other was Beca’s size and made the brunette snort at the words emblazoned on the front.

“You are such a dork,” the DJ tried to scowl, but ended up grinning at the gesture. It was silly and absurd but so totally Chloe.

“You’re welcome!” the redhead grinned before returning her attention to moving the Secret Santa exchange along. Since the three women had chosen each other, Amy started the exchange again and the Bellas all squealed and laughed and grinned at their gifts.

The brunette’s own eyes rarely strayed from her gift, steel blue eyes flying to the unicorn to the redhead to the shirts in her other hand. With an amused little smile, the DJ pulled the unicorn’s shirt on, shaking her head at the words as she chuckled under her breath. The sparkly little shirt the unicorn wore had the words ‘Rainbow and Butterflies’ stamped on the front with a few cute little doodles that were obviously written by the supersenior herself. The shirt Beca had been given was just one word in big, bold capital—‘Attitude’ displayed in pure black over the dull grey shirt.

Though the gift was obviously a joke, Beca couldn’t help falling in love with it all (maybe it’s because of who gave it to her, but the unicorn was growing on her and the shirt _was_ in her more favored colors). Once the last Bella had gotten her gift (nobody could hear what Lily had said, but she looked thankful enough), the girls pushed the furniture back and started settling in for the last movie of the night.

Before the redhead could take over the captains’ armchair (aptly named by Cynthia-Rose after said captains had turned down Stacie and Amy’s titles for their supposed chair), cold slender fingers slipped into hers as the brunette gently tugged on her hand.

Chloe turned to her, brows raised in silent question as Beca simply replied with a small smile. The brunette nodded her head up the stairs and mouthed, “Follow me.”

With brows furrowed, the redhead followed the little DJ out the room and up the stairs. Voice low, the supersenior asked, “Beca, where are we going?”

The brunette turned back with a bright smirk. “It’s my turn to give you your Christmas present.”

The redhead let out a breath. “You didn’t have to, Becs…”

“I wanted to,” the DJ shrugged, stopping by the open doorframe of her room. Cold fingers let go of small, warms ones as the brunette walked up to her desk and pulled out the gift hidden under her desk.

Beca sucked in her bottom lip as she saw the way her hands shook under the neatly wrapped present. The DJ hoped her pounding heart wasn’t echoing in the silence, but the brunette couldn’t quite tell with the blood rushing in her ears. Letting out a shaky breath, pale slender fingers tightened around the gift as the brunette gave herself a small reassuring nod.

She could do this.

The brunette turned back to the supersenior who waited by her door, an encouraging smile on the redhead’s lips. Trying to hide her shaking hands, the DJ quickly handed over the box before stuffing her hands in her back pockets. “Merry Christmas, Chlo.”

Deep blue eyes brightened at the gift, full pink lips quirking into a smile as the redhead slowly opened it. The supersenior squealed as she pulled out the two gifts on top. “A baking book! And more of your mixes!”

“They’re Christmas themed—the book and mixes,” the brunette blushed at the quick one-armed hug the redhead had given her.

“I love it!” the redhead beamed before peeking into the box to see if there was anything else. A soft gasp left the supersenior’s lips as she found the last present, smooth small fingers pulled the warm colored scarf out of the box, replacing the wooly material with the other two gifts. The redhead gently placed the box next to her feet before throwing the scarf around her neck, her grin growing as she fixed her hair and felt the material around her neck.

Beca found herself speechless at the sight, deep blue eyes twinkling over a blinding grin. Her breath hitched as steel blue eyes found themselves trapped under deep deep blue. The DJ found herself leaning in, smile small as pale slender fingers fiddled with the ends of the scarf.

The redhead’s voice was soft, breathy. “Good choice, Becs.”

The brunette’s smile widened slightly, “Yeah. You look beautiful.”

A blush erupted on the supersenior’s face, a smile growing on the redhead’s lips. “It’s a good gift.”

Pale fingers tightened around the scarf as the little DJ sucked in a shaky breath. “I… I have one last gift.”

Steel blue eyes missed the way deep blue orbs focused on her own, the cold blue instead focusing on full pink lips. The brunette watched the way full pink lips slowly tilted into a smile—a _smirk_. The redhead’s voice was soft (but incredibly easy to understand as gravity seemed to be pulling them together), “Yeah?”

Beca gulped down the lump in her throat, steel eyes rising from pink lips to deep blue to the bent little plant hanging above them. She let out a breath. “Yeah.”

Ocean blue eyes slowly followed the movement, cold blue falling back down to see the redhead freeze as a dust of pink bloomed on her cheeks. Deep blue eyes found hers as full pink lips whispered, “Beca… are you—sure?”

Cold blue eyes glowed (in certainty, in amusement, in fondness) as pale slender fingers gripped the scarf in her hands and pulled her in. “Infinity percent.”

* * *

Warm blue eyes twinkled under the lowlight as pale slender fingers played with burning red hair.

“Are you going to name it?” Chloe whispered, one hand intertwined with the brunette’s free hand and the other nestled over the steady _thump thump thump_ her head laid on.

The little DJ hummed, fingers stilling as steel blue eyes rested on the white little stuffed toy at their feet. “Chloe.”

“That’s boring,” the redhead smirked teasingly, deep blue sparkling with reassurance that, no, it wasn’t boring or stupid and that, yes, it was kind of cute.

Beca rolled her eyes fondly, a small smile curling the corner of her lips. “Fine then, Sparkles.”

A red brow raised. “Sparkles?”

The brunette shrugged, smile quirking into a smirk. “It’s like Chloe—it shines.”

The supersenior laughed, fingers tightening around cold pale hands as she nuzzled deeper into the brunette’s shoulder. “You are such a _dork_.”

Beca grinned confidently, steel blue eyes shining in mirth (happiness, fondness, love). “You love it.”

Chloe’s grin softened, head tilting to leave a lingering kiss on the DJ’s jaw. “I do.”

Beca fucking loved Christmas.

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was inspired by all these tropes (and others that I didn't bother to type) and prompts: **Christmas AU + Beca secretly loves Christmas + Secret Santa + you asked me what I wanted for Christmas and I was feeling really sarcastic so I said “a unicorn” and you actually went out and got me a stuffed unicorn I hate you so much but actually it’s really cute and I might sort of love it AU + PULLED YOU IN FOR A KISS WITH A SCARF AU**
> 
> Anyways! Hope y'all liked it (if you did, tell me what you thought of it and which part was the best ;))! And merry December 1st, everyone!


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